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Taehyung snatches the box of generic tampons - the cheaper, the better - from the shelf and holds them close to his chest, feeling so uncomfortably out of place with the two other women in the aisle. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s done this, he always feels like he shouldn’t be there. Sometimes people look at him strangely, sometimes they pay no attention to him, but he doesn’t feel right either way.
He doesn’t look back to see if the women stare when he rushes out of the aisle. He just wants to pay and leave as fast as he can. His cramps are horrific this month and he knows he has a bottle of pain killers and a hot pad waiting for him at home.
He had panicked when he was out with friends and realized he started. But luckily Jimin was an absolute saint and was completely understanding after he pulled him aside and explained what was going on. Jimin had accepted his words with a soft smile and asked if he wanted to walk home with him, and Taehyung had almost started crying right then. Stupid PMS. He declined but thanked the other boy for being so understanding. All of his friends knew enough about him and accepted him for who he was, but no one understood him like Jimin did.
He should have seen his period coming, given the fact that he had burst into tears after dropping a cupcake on the kitchen floor the other night, but he could never seem to keep track of it. You’d think after almost 5 years of this, he’d have it down, but that certainly wasn’t the case.
So here he is, buying tampons at a convenience store at 10pm, annoyed and uncomfortable and in a mass amount of pain.
He wishes for what feels like the millionth time that he didn’t have to go through this anymore. But he doesn’t have much of a choice until he’s completely financially independent. He couldn’t even convince his parents to call him their son instead of their daughter, let alone get them to agree to pay for testosterone injections (they wouldn’t even agree to birth control, no matter how many other reasons he gave them for needing it). They already don’t approve of his short hair, and boyish style. And if they knew he wore a binder, they would flip.
So, every month he has to endure this week from hell and deal with the reminder that his body doesn’t match up with who he really was.
When he reaches the counter, he places the tampons on the counter and tries not to look up at the cashier. He sneaks a glance eventually, when the guy rambles off the greeting he’s trained to say and takes the box to scan it, and thankfully the man looks painfully bored and unconcerned with what he’s buying.
He’s finally starting to relax when he hears the taunts beside him.
“Pussy-whipped,” someone coughs out, clearly not attempting to be subtle, and there are snickers that follow. He glances over to see a group of boys, probably around his age, maybe younger, lingering at the magazine stand and laughing at him.
He turns away, digs his hands in his pocket to pull out money, hands it to the cashier, and tries to ignore them. It’s not as if this hasn’t happened before, it’s just that most people whisper behind him, thinking that he can’t hear them. Most assume he’s buying them for a girlfriend, but others are just confused.
“Maybe he needs it for his pussy,” they laugh again, louder this time, and Taehyung balls his hands into fists at his sides and feels his nails dig into the skin of his palms.
It’s best to just ignore them, he knows that. He can walk out of here in a few seconds and never see them again.
He tries not to think about them possibly following him.
“How about it? You PMSing, faggot?” They’re taunting him, trying to pull some kind of reaction out of him, and he wants so badly to retaliate, but he’s trying to be mature and - and in all honestly, he’s a little scared. There are 5 of them and 1 of him.
The cashier hands him his change and he tries not to make it obvious that his hands are shaking. The boys still taunt him as the cashier bags the tampons painfully slow, and he tries to tune them out, but it’s difficult to ignore the sting of every word they throw at him and the itch of fear under his skin.
There’s a loud thump on the counter next him that makes him jump and he glances over with wide eyes. “Just fuck off already. He doesn’t want to talk to you,” Taehyung hears. There’s a single bottle of water on the counter, being held by a tan hand and long fingers. Taehyung’s eyes travel up a strong, muscled arm until his gaze lands on the boy’s face. Well, he looks like a boy - looks around Taehyung’s age. Midnight black hair peeking out from under a beanie and dark, deep eyes. He’s handsome, but he’s got a bit of a baby face - that’s obvious even under the anger that twists his features. But the strong arms and muscled shoulders that are very visible in the sweat-soaked tank top he wears, make him look a little older.
Taehyung stares at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging open dumbly as he tells the boys off. “Why don’t you mind your own damn business and go back to jerking off to dirty magazines?”
Some of the boys look like they want to respond, but most of them are already backing down. They pull each other away, mumbling angrily and shooting dirty looks at the both of them, before they disappear down one of the aisles.
The other boy watches them walk away, before glancing to him, the irritation melting away from his expression and being replaced by an apologetic smile. “You good?”
It takes a moment for Taehyung to collect himself, and stop staring at the boy like an idiot. He tears his gaze away from the other boy and grabs the bag with the tampons. “Uh- yeah, I’m fine,” He glances over again and the boy is facing the cashier now, so Taehyung stares at the side of his face. “Thank you…You didn’t have to do that, though. It’s best to just ignore them,” he mumbles.
“I know,” the other boy admits as he hands the cashier a few dollars. “But they wouldn’t leave you alone,” he shrugs. “And I didn’t know if they planned to follow you out when you left or something.”
The boy grabs his bottle of water and they both step away from the counter to move out of the way of other customers. Taehyung fiddles with the handles on the plastic bag, cheeks growing warm under the boy’s intense stare. “Y - Yeah, that’s true…Thanks…again.” Smooth, Taehyung, real smooth.
He’s normally not this awkward with people. He befriends people easily - knows how to talk to them and charm them. But he’s feeling a little thrown off by the taunting assholes and the sweaty, muscular, handsome guy in front of him who just defended him without hesitation.
“It’s no problem, I’m glad they backed off,” he sticks a hand out for Taehyung to shake. “I’m Jeongguk, by the way.”
“Taehyung,” he replies, reaching forward to shake Jeongguk’s hand. It feels warm and comforting - a perfect combination of calloused and soft.
“Sorry if I stink, I was on a jog,” Jeongguk explains, laughing.
“Oh no, you’re fine - it’s fine,” Taehyung stutters, cheeks flushing again.
“Can I walk you home?” Jeongguk asks boldly, and Taehyung is a little taken aback.
“Oh that’s okay, I’ll be fine-”
“I know, you can probably take care of yourself just fine, but I’d worry less if I could walk you home,” Jeongguk admits with a shy smile.
“Um- okay, sure.”
They step out, leaving the sound of the bell on the door dinging behind them as they make their way down the sidewalk.
“So…how old are you?” Taehyung asks in some attempt to start conversation.
“Just turned 17,” Jeongguk takes a swig of his water, and Taehyung tries to hide his surprise.
“Oh, I’m 17 too. What school do you go to?”
“I’ve actually been homeschooled for the past few years,” the other boy explains.
“Wow, really? What’s that like?”
Jeongguk snorts, “Pretty boring, actually. But I get a little more freedom. My mom keeps me on a schedule similar to any other school, but she at least lets me listen to music while I study.”
“What do you listen to?” Taehyung jumps to ask.
This starts a game of throwing the names of artists back and forth and discovering their extremely similar taste in music. They begin talking about movies and animes too, discussing ones they’ve both seen and recommending ones that they haven’t. Taehyung feels himself relaxing, smiling, almost completely forgetting what had happened at the convenience store, and he’s relieved that he decided to walk home with Jeongguk. The walk home alone would’ve been too silent, would’ve given him too much time to dwell.
They arrive at Taehyung’s house quicker than he expects and they stand at the bottom of the steps, staring at one another, and trying to figure out how to part ways.
“So,” Jeongguk starts, and Taehyung sees him glance down at the plastic bag in his hands. “Do you have a girlfriend waiting for those?”
Taehyung immediately averts his eyes, “No, no, I don’t have a girlfriend,” he swallows against the nervous lump in his throat. “They’re- uh- they’re for me.”
It’s silent for a moment, and Taehyung begins to panic. He’s ruined it - he’s made everything weird and ruined it and he can’t bring himself to look up and see Jeongguk’s expression.
“Oh,” he hears Jeongguk say, and he almost flinches. “Okay. So…you don’t have a girlfriend then? Or anything like that?”
Taehyung looks up, confused. “No - I’m not dating anyone,” he answers. Jeongguk seems completely unconcerned with the fact that the tampons are his, and Taehyung doesn’t know what to think about that. He’s never had any stranger accept information like this so easily, without prying too much or becoming visibly uncomfortable.
“Good,” Jeongguk sighs, smiling with his teeth. His front teeth stick out a bit, and Taehyung is immediately reminded of a bunny. It’s painfully endearing and Taehyung struggles not to coo at him. “Could I, maybe, get your number?”
Taehyung stares back at him, dumbfounded. His number? Why would he want his number? He’s not - maybe Jeongguk doesn’t understand. “But - why?” Is what ends up coming out of his mouth, and he feels like an idiot the moment he says it.
Jeongguk laughs, “Well I like you, and people tend to want to stay in contact with the people they have interest in,” he replies cheekily.
Taehyung backs away until the back of his legs hit the first step on the porch. “Look, Jeongguk, you’re really nice and I’m thankful that you helped me but you don’t even know anything about me and I don’t think you would-”
“Sure I do,” Jeongguk cuts in. “I know your favorite band, your favorite food, the fact that you have a cute smile, and that you have a nervous habit of licking your lips. And I got all that from a 20 minute walk home,” Taehyung’s cheeks are growing warm by the time Jeongguk pauses, and he has to resist the urge to run his tongue along his bottom lip. Great, now he’s conscious of it. “Look, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I think you’re an interesting person and I’d like to get to know you more, if that’s okay with you.”
Taehyung tries to fight a smile, but he can’t. There’s a light, hopeful feeling in his chest, a hint of ease that he feels only when he’s with his friends, who accept every part of who he is without question. He doesn’t want to be too hopeful - cute guys do not show interest in him, especially after knowing anything about his gender identity, that’s just the way it is. “Okay,” he agrees softly. “Sure.”
They trade phones and put each other’s numbers in, and Taehyung has to resist the urge to enter a goofy contact name into Jeongguk’s phone.
“It was nice meeting you, Taehyung,” Jeongguk places a hand on his arm, and Taehyung almost shivers at the touch. “Even under those circumstances.”
“Nice meeting you too,” Taehyung can’t stop smiling as he stares back at Jeongguk’s dark eyes.
“I’m going to start Ouran as soon as I get home, so you better expect reaction texts from me until 3am, because I tend to binge.”
Taehyung barks out a laugh, “Good, there’s no way you could not binge Ouran.”
“Goodnight, Taehyung,” Jeongguk gives him one last smile before he turns to walk away from the porch.
Taehyung watches his back as he goes, and tries not to drool over his shoulders. “Goodnight,” he mumbles.
Taehyung runs inside the house, and when his mother asks what he’s grinning about, he ignores her in favor of answering the text Jeongguk has already sent.